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The Chosen walked along the North road, headed back to Moryven. The trip was mostly downhill, so it was a pleasant jaunt rather than the stairclimber workout the walk up to the estate would’ve been without Govan’s wagon. The trip had largely been silent, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts about the events at Blackwicke Manor.

“So, we’re unanimously of the opinion that something hinky is going on at the House on Haunted Hill?” Layla fished around in her pack and brought out a fuzzy dew ibosa. “Hey Jackson, will you peel this for me?”
“Sure,” he took the fruit from her and began gently shaving off the outer skin.
“I think we can all agree on the hinkiness,” Rory replied.
“I think it’s a little weird you’re fixated on the maid, instead of the creepy necromancer,” Erin spun around, walking backward as they talked.
“The necromancer was rude to your boyfriend. That doesn’t make her suspicious. The maid has zero mana. That’s sus as fuck,” Layla replied.

Jack suddenly stopped walking.

“You okay, Jackson?” Erin took a step toward him.
“Big noodle’s talking,” he replied.
“What, like, right now, to you?” Layla interjected.
“Yeah. It’s… just a sec,” Jack closed his eyes, then suddenly the wash of power they’d come to associate with the serpent sharing his body flooded over them.

Jack: It’s… hard to hear you, big guy. Is this easier?
Yes, though we must speak quickly. My power is once again weakened as the stars move away from the conjunction of Nightfall. This connection relies upon your mana rather than my power, and taxes your body to maintain.
Layla: Oh, damn, hey.
Erin: Hi, big O. I didn’t get to say thanks for the night in the garden.
Rory: Is something wrong?
I must ask you to intervene on behalf of one of my night priests. She has much hidden knowledge and many justified fears about the path which unfolds before you.
Erin: I thought the night priests were wiped out.
A few remain, hidden away, serving in what ways they can. I have some idea of why she has emerged from hiding, but I cannot be certain.
Rory: Can’t you just tell us?
The skein of Fate is snarled around you in this place. We cannot see beyond this moment.
Layla: And this… night priest can?
No, but there are things I cannot tell you, my Chosen. I am bound by my nature. She seeks you now, in the center of the city. The Day harries her in this very moment. Jack, you must let go.

The wash of dark mana disappeared, and Jack stumbled as the power receded.

“Hey, managed to save some mana for later that time,” he grunted as he dropped to one knee.
“How much?” Layla smiled.
“Twenty-two, out of a hundred and ten,” he groaned.
“Scrub,” she laughed.
“Did… did Ouroboros call you by your nickname?” Rory asked.
“Yeah. He did that after we got to Moryven, when he let me take a nap,” Jack replied. “Any mana potions left?”
“Yeah, a couple,” Rory retrieved one of the swirling blue vials from his storage and handed it to the nightbringer.
“You took a nap? Without passing out and getting a temporarily-dead-hangover?” Layla offered him her hand, and Erin took the other.
“Yeah, it was pretty nice,” he gave Erin a soft smile as the girls helped him stand.
“Yeah, it was,” the dreadnought blushed.
“Awww, you two,” Layla mooned. 

Jack tossed the mana potion back and visibly perked up as his flagging reserves were restored. 

“Alright, so, center of the city, right now. We’re what, maybe five miles from the city at this point? We run?” he cinched up a few of his buckles and shook out his feet.
“Oh yes. Time to get the lead out,” Erin bounced on the balls of her feet.
“You two are gonna have to wait up for us, you know that, right?” Layla groaned.
“Only for you, tart,” Rory gave a little hop and traveled six feet down the road, floating gently back down to the ground as though he weighed no more than a feather.
“Oh, fine,” she grumbled. “It’s not like I don’t actually have superhuman stamina.”

Erin shot off down the road.

“Last one there buys dinner!” she called back.

Jack and Rory shot after her like arrows launched from the string.

Layla: This is bullllllllllshit.
Erin: Move faster. You beat me there, and I’ll give you a kiss.

“FLIGHT OF THE FIRE DRAKE! OooooRAHHHH!” Layla shouted from behind them.

Rory and Jack nearly stopped running, stunned by the sight of the succubus roaring over their heads, trailing what could only be described as rocket exhaust in her wake. 

Layla: Suck it, boys!
Erin: You can FLY?!
Layla: Not really. Just, like, a rocket jump that goes real far. But I also finally got an upgrade for the wings, so they let me glide a bit for super cheap mana cost. That and the fact the walk is all downhill means ALL YOUR LIPS ARE BELONG TO US.
Jack: Better run faster, hon.
Erin: Don’t you encourage her, Jackson.

-----

Layla did not beat Erin back to Moryven. The dreadnought’s incredible stamina meant she could blitz down the incline at a blistering pace and never slow. Eventually, Layla began to run short on mana and had to resort to running glides down the hill, resuming her mirage and settling into a jog in the last leg of the run. Jack and Rory set a comfortable pace and arrived together at the north gate, just behind the succubus.

“That was fun,” Erin grinned.
“Stupid giraffe-legged running machine. Never gonna get another smooch,” Layla quietly grumbled.
“Alright, where’s this distressed damsel we’re supposed to be rescuing,” Rory bent over, hands on his knees, breathing deeply. 

Rory had run quite a bit with Darius back on Earth, just enough to keep fit, but the marine’s long runs were something Rory had no interest in. If it weren’t for the succubus’ wings, he’d only narrowly have beaten her down the hill.

“Center of town, remember,” Jack stood next to the salesman, then reached into his pack and retrieved a water skin. “Here bud.”

Rory took the skin from Jack and took a quick swig as they all began to walk toward the Market Ward. 

“Oh hey, lemme try something. Here. Cold Snap,” the nightbringer placed his hand on the waterskin, and a sharp blue crack of mana shot through the water skin. “Try it again.”

Rory lifted the skin again and sipped, then greedily poured a quarter of the bag down his throat and across his face, cupping some of the now ice-cold water and spreading it across the back of his neck and his throat.

“When did that start?” Layla eyed him.
“Frost is in my list for Nightwraith, and I got that spell for unlocking the skill. I figured I’d mess about with it some, just for the versatility. Level is still really low, so it’s not really useful in combat yet,” he replied.
“I should probably work on my Wind. I’ve sorta let it get behind,” she pondered.

“I SUMMON YEH TO FULFILL YER OATH!” the dwarven burr rang from the Market Ward only a few hundred feet ahead of them.

Erin: Was… was that… fucking English?
Layla: Nevermind whether it was English. That was fucking Lord of the Rings.

Jack and Erin simultaneously broke into a run, making a mad dash through the busy afternoon traffic. Rory and Layla shared an unhappy look then jogged after the two vanguard.

As they broke into the market square, a commotion was brewing near the park green. A bedraggled, elderly dwarven woman with wild white hair stuffed under a worn tricorn hat, wearing what appeared to be mostly rags, was using a broken cutlass to fend off several priests of Heleyl who had emerged from their temple. A number of Watchmen stood nearby, apparently content to let them sort it out until someone committed an actual crime.

“This is heresy!” one of the priests of Day shouted at her.
“She cannot be allowed to speak this dark tongue in the presence of our temple!” another called out to the crowd that had gathered.
“Who knows what evil curses she levies on us even now?” another shouted.

The old dwarf swung the broken blade at one of the priests that had drawn to close, forcing him backward into the arms of his compatriots.

 “I know yeh’re here somewhere, yeh shites,” she called in dwarven, then abruptly switched back to English. “BLOOD AND THUNDER! YER A WIZARD, ‘ARRY! HEY, LISTEN!” 

Rory: Is she just shouting fantasy pop culture references in English?
Layla: I mean, it’s a hell of a way to get our attention.
Erin: Yeah, it definitely worked.
Jack: Just so we’re clear, if the day-boys try to hurt her, I’m gonna give them the twenty-tentacle-tickle, and not the good one.
Layla: Not twenty-one?
Jack: That tentacle is for Erin.

Jack and Erin burst out from the edge of the crowd, followed a few moments later by Rory and Layla. He took a few steps toward the ruckus, when one of the priests of Day noticed him.

“Stay back! This heretic is dangerous!” he called.

Jack pushed his hood back, doing his best not to flinch as the daylight stung against his skin.

“She’s not the only one. We’ve come to fetch our friend there,” he grinned at the priest.

The priest didn’t take the revelation that an awakened undead was involved very well at all.

“WATCHMEN! A MONSTER!” he shouted, gesticulating wildly at Jack and nearly climbing over his fellow priests to put distance between them.

One of the guards motioned to several of the others and they moved forward into the cleared space. 

The dwarf swung at the remaining two priests again, stepping back onto the green as the day priests encroached on her while trying to move further away from Jack.

“Master Jack, I believe?” he asked.
“Yep. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” he replied, quirking an eyebrow
“S’alright. I was on the gate when Commander Lythas brought you in. Big talk that day, Guard Captain showing up and turning you loose. Then all that business with Madpike. You’re a bit famous among the Watch,” he smiled.
“Good to know. We’d like to collect the dwarf and be on our way,” Jack replied.
“Well, if this had gone on much longer, we’d probably have had to charge her with disruption of commerce, but if you can usher her off the square, we’ll let it slide. We can call it even for helping to break up the Union,” his smile widened into a grin.

One of the day priests had apparently run out of patience.

“What are you doing?! Kill this monster! Or at least arrest it!” he yelled to the Watchmen.
“Why? He hasn’t done anything wrong. And he’s a member of the Hunter’s Guild. You, on the other hand, third time this month you’ve caused a commotion in the market square, Tevarius. Get back to your temple and bilk some more poor bastards for their coin,” the guard replied darkly.

Jack walked away from the priest and the guards, taking a wide route around the other two priests and edging toward the dwarf on the green.

“Hi,” he called to her. “What’s your name?”

She whirled on him, pointing the wrecked cutlass at him, then pushed up her tricorn from where it had fallen down. Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance.

“Oh, oh my twilight stars. Cannae really be yeh? An’ a bloody nightwraith ta boot,” the blade dropped as she took a faltering step toward Jack.
“It’s us, yeah,” Jack smiled and gestured back at the other Chosen.
“Oh, there’s four o’ yeh. Jus’ like Brandon’s bunch. Oh, ah’m so happeh ta see yeh, laddie,” tears began to stream down the old dwarf’s face.
“It’s okay. We’re gonna take you back to the inn where we’re staying, so we can talk, okay?” Jack eased closer to her.

The dwarfess’ eyes narrowed, and she took a step back.

“Nae, laddie. Show me. Show me the Sign that cannae be made nor writ, only given by he himself,” the old dwarf pulled aside the rags that covered her shoulders and unfastened the top two buttons of a blouse caked with grime. 

Under the dirty shirt, emblazoned on the wrinkled skin of her sternum, was the circular symbol of Ouroboros, as alive as the symbol of the Seals or the one adorning their left hands.

Jack’s eyes widened, but he pulled his gauntlet halfway off, revealing the Mark of Ouroboros on his hand. 

The woman collapsed to her knees and began to weep.

“Oh, thank yeh, father. Thank yeh. Ah’ve waited so long,” she cried.

Jack closed the rest of the distance, watching the priests of day as they watched the scene with first suspicion, then outright malice. 

“It’s alright. We’re here. What’s your name?” he whispered to her.
“Magryn Cast-Out… but Brandon renamed me Maggie Shadowbound, and tha’s the name ah wish,” she replied, still weeping.
“Alright, Maggie. Come on. Let’s go get some mead and talk,” Jack gently lifted her up.
“Oh, laddie, ah knew ah was gonna like yeh,” she grinned through the tears.

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